Not Yet
by KroganVanguard
Summary: The moments after Watershed. Short one-shot.
1. Not Yet

_I look forward to the deluge (heh) of post-Watershed fics, by far better writers than me. But watching and re-watching the episode, this just wouldn't leave me alone till I got it out on paper._

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"Riii..ck."

His name escapes her mouth with a whisper, winding along her breath, forcing its way out past her shock.

He waits on his knees, eyes dark, face solemn, ring held out in a pose of almost benediction, giving her the time she needs to process this, precious moments that jolt her brain, kicking back into the gear after it had frozen. Frozen at the thought he would be ending things, be ready to walk away from her. The fear that had clutched her spin, encased it in ice was now rapidly receding, but only replaced by trepidation. This was wild, a complete turnabout, and she felt unbalanced. Anchorless.

"I meant it Kate. Whatever you decide. I'm on board with it. With us." His voice cracks unsteadily, and she reaches out to him, can't stand it anymore, needs to touch him, to feel him, to bring herself back to reality, to bring him back from the brink that is etched on his features. The look on his face. The fear she might reject him.

Slim fingers encircles his wrist, and she pulls him up, standing up herself, drawing him to her, running her palms along his forearm and into the warm trunk of his chest, wrapping herself around him. His broad palms close on her back in turn, pulling her into his hug till they're clinging to each other in broad daylight in between the swings. Her breath exhales, one she didn't even know she had been holding in, and then she feels something release in him, a click she can almost feel through skin and muscle and bone, like a trigger inside him disarming, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction, his own breath escaping, warm against her hair and the side of her temple.

"Not…not like this, Rick." She whispers the words into the planes of his chest. Her throat clenches. She has forever been terrible at this. At letting the words escape. At letting herself open up.

"But not…no?" His voice is tinged with equal parts hope, and fear.

She pulls her head back, looks up at his eyes, then flicks her gaze down to his lips, before pulling him in and pressing her own lips against his. He relaxes another degree, sinking into the kiss, and she wraps her hands around his neck, runs fingers through his hair, desperately pulling him down more, her tongue urgently seeking his. But no…no. This always the problem. She draws back with a mighty effort, her eyes now meeting his slightly-confused ones.

"Not no. Someday, yes. Not today. Not before…we've talked about it."

"I don't need to talk about it. I love you, and if you want to go to DC, I want to be by your side. You don't have to choose between the job and me, Kate." His voice is low, but it's clear and it's strong. "I'll be with you. Always."

Goosebumps spring along her arms. That's their promise. Their word. Not one to be used lightly. Not that he's been in a light mood. This might be the longest he's even gone without cracking a joke in her presence. Trying to get her mood to lighten. To get her to smile.

"I believe you. I want…I want you to scratch and claw for every inch. I need you too. I'm done keeping one foot out the door. But I'm terrible at this." She waves one hand between them.

"This?"

"Relationships? Being normal?"

"Oh Kate Beckett. You could never be normal. I would never want you to be. You're…magic." He gently kisses her temple, hands resting at the small of her back, unwilling to let her go. Good.

"But you know. You know what I mean. We never…talk. I've never talked about things. I always bail around the time the talk should happen."

"I vaguely recall something about wall, and a succession of loveless relationships and being a one-and-done kind of girl, yes." There is a teasing tone to his voice, as he returns to something resembling even keel, and the ice stops cracking under feet. She hasn't ever doubted the strength of their feelings for each other. He would die for her. She would kill for him. But what they've never discussed is their future. Together. Or as she had thought for one brief moment just minutes earlier as her world had threatened to crack into pieces, apart. But no. That nightmare had been avoided.

"Right. I want that. I want that with you. But first we have to figure…us out. Where we're going, how we're getting there. I'll even make you a…counter-offer."

"Oh?"

"Move the Boba Fett statue out of the bathroom, and I'll bring the rest of my stuff over to the loft. All of it."

His eyes widen in surprise and delight, and she smiles warmly at how that makes her heart flutter. It's not much really, because unofficially she basically lives at the loft anyway. But it is a milestone, and it's a first step. But she has to bring up the Sword of Damocles hanging over their necks at the same time too.

"…if I stay that is."

"DC." He nods understandingly.

"Right. I got the offer."

"And?"

She takes a pause, decision made…or unmade? She didn't know. Maybe she could make it all over again. After all, she no longer had to choose between him and the job. That changed the equation all over again. He was no longer a variable, but a constant. Her constant, her north star.

"Come on Castle. Let me buy you a cup of coffee. Tell you all about it. Let's figure it out." _Together. _"But first show me the ring."

"You doubt my taste?" She entwines her hand through his as they walk away from the swings, and he throws her an expression of mock disbelief.

"I'm just glad I didn't have to share the moment with Reggie the chopper pilot." This is familiar. This is their dance. But now…now she knows what happens when the music stops. That underneath the humour and the deflection and the jokes, he has a core- an unyielding bulwark of love for her that will not fade. Even if the music does.

"I can take a hint you know."

"Hah. You mean 5 minutes before you almost fell into the clutches of Natalie Rhodes."

"To be fair, she did do a very good…you." He ducks out of the way of her punch. "I do prefer the real thing though."

"Good." Laughter bubbles out of her, unbidden. "Because I have a gun. And you don't have a choice."

"No, I don't. I already chose. I chose you."

_And I choose you Rick. I love you._ She can't voice the thought yet, but she will one day. And he will wait for her too. She clutches his hand tighter in response. It's enough. For now.


	2. The Talk

_Initially Not Yet was envisaged as a one-shot, but I couldn't shake the idea that although they acknowledged the need for a talk, I kinda chickened out by not showing the talk itself. I like this version, but I also think it's OOC because Beckett won't be able to deal with talking about everything at once (especially not kids!), but I kinda liked the tone and how the conversation turned out so I'm leaving it all in. _

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He greets her at the door with a glass of red wine, and that really is the most perfect start to her evening. Mostly because they're at his loft, still together, he has that smile on his face- the one that comes over him from time to time, as if he still can't quite believe that she's there and they're doing this, and it makes her heart flutter that even a year on she can inspire that from him. A few hours ago, sitting on that swing set, the icy fear that had clutched her heart that they were ending, ending before they'd really begun, that had finally dissipated. She hadn't had the chance to buy him that cup of coffee as Gates had called her back to the precinct to put together the paperwork to arrest the real mastermind behind the murder, and Ryan and Esposito had been sent out to do the actual arrest of the political scion.

Castle had brought her coffee just as they'd left, and she'd caught the knowing glint in Espo's eyes, and the ready smile on Ryan's face, and maybe she'd blushed ever so slightly, let her fingers linger on Castle's in a second round of apologies and thanks. At least in the precinct's eyes, mom and dad have made up. Castle casually brushes his fingers across the nape of her neck as he leaves an hour early to get dinner underway, another subtle touch and heated look to let her know that she should hurry up.

It's their way, subtext and cups of coffee and knowing looks and conversations hidden via diaries and love letters from other people. It's comfortable like a blanket, and vanilla sweet. It's also not enough. She knows that now. From what's transpired today, and how close she's feared they'd come to swerving off the edge.

"Thanks." She takes the wine glass by the stem, and lifts herself on her toes to press a kiss against his lips. "Just going to freshen up first, before eating."

Dinner is subdued by mutual, silent acknowledgement. It's their secret language, their telepathic connection. Their dance. Their music. Beckett shares the story of how she broke the killer into confessing, skirting past any epiphanies regarding homes and interrogation rooms and precincts. He gives a quick grin of encouragement, and reaches over to squeeze her hand, so fiercely proud of her that it almost hurts to think of life without him.

They settle at the couch after she cleans up, at opposite ends, but her feet tucked under his warm calves, wineglasses in hand.

"So." His blue eyes are serious, locked on to hers. No more avoidance. "Let's talk. What…what do you want, Beckett?"

"Everything." The word escapes her lips before she can fry her brain overthinking things. "You. The job. A family. Good friends. To keep putting people who deserve it, behind bars. Can I have it all?"

"Well…you can have me." He smiles softly at her, running his fingers down her ankles and over her feet. "I'm not going anywhere. I mean it. I've been by your side 5 years. 4 years from the outside looking in. I'm done with that. I want…what we have. But bigger. Better."

"Third time's the charm, huh?" He's broached the topic of marriage. It isn't the taboo, the iceberg in front of the _Titanic_ that she was afraid to confront before, any more.

"Beckett…" His voice trails off for a second, and he looks down into his wine. When he looks up, he has that face, that combination of strength and vulnerability that utterly breaks her every time. "I watched you die in my arms. Not just once either. I've watched you fall apart and pick yourself up and put yourself together, stronger for it. I've seen you beat down your demons. I've tried to walk away. I tried to fall out of love you. I've broken your heart and you've broken mine…and we're still here. We made it this far. You think the prospect of marriage scares me? I won't lie. It does a little. I've been burnt before. That fear is a matchstick flame next to the burning ball of the sun that is the fear of NOT having you in my life." His voice crackles, but doesn't break. His eyes don't leave her for a second. For the second time in a day, he bares his soul to her.

Her heart soars just as her stomach falls away. He has lain his heart at her feet, and the power she holds over this man, this strong, proud man, exhilarates her and terrifies her in equal measure.

"I think…" She exhales in turn, scrunches herself into even more of a ball, like an armadillo turtling itself. "I think unlike anyone else I've met, you could be my one-and-done. In fact you probably are and that terrifies me because I've run away from relationships that never even had the potential to reach that and now I'm standing in front of cliff and I'm supposed to jump off and I have no idea how to do that." The last sentences rushes out of her so fast the words are chained together, to make it past the chokehold her own fear has on her throat and somehow, somehow after verbalising it, she finds it easier to breath.

"So we hold hands, and jump off together." He has that easy, warm, re-assuring tone back, the one which tells her he has her back and she has his. Because they're partners in this too, like they've been in everything else for the last five years. And they'll make it through this too, just like they've made it past everything else.

"And?"

"And? Who said there was an and after all that?" Her tone is snippier than she intends. Opening up is hard. She takes a big swallow of the wine. It's a 1994 Chateauneuf de Pape because clearly he's not cutting any corners tonight, and it deserves better treatment than that.

"Because there was. I know you, and you're not done." He eases his fingers up her calves, tugs her out a little from her curled-into-a-shell position. "How about I help you out a little? You'd make a great mom. A wonderful one."

Her heart skips a beat. It is so ridiculously unfair this man can read her like a damn book.

"Do you…do you think so?" She whispers as she looks up at him from under hooded eyes, lashes curled, ducking her face into her wineglass. Her shield.

"Yes. You have the best qualities of my mother- nurturing, insightful, long-sighted, non-judgemental, without the worst. OK, you're a slight workaholic. You can…work…on that. I can help. You're wonderful with Alexis, and she looks up to you. Of course there is…" His voice falters now. She knows there's a minefield to be negotiated around her and motherhood. She gives him points for a brave initial foray.

"My mom was a great mom. If I could raise my kids a tenth as well as she raised me…"

"Exactly."

"But I'm heading into my mid-30s. Not much time left."

"When have we ever done anything the easy way? What about me Beckett? Want this lazy, immature, selfish jackass as the father of your children?" His blue eyes twinkle as he speaks, and an impish grin spreads across his features.

"Stop fishing for compliments Castle. You know I think you're a great dad. In the early days, seeing you around Alexis was the _only _time I didn't apply those adjectives to you." She smiles ruefully, and then reaches out to brush his knuckles across his fingers. "Unlike in everything else, here I'll be the one running clueless, screwing everything up, and you'll be the one cleaning up my mess."

"Hush. Don't talk rubbish. I haven't met a problem Kate Beckett can't conquer. Motherhood certainly won't be it." He wraps those big, warm fingers around hers, and tugs ever so slightly, and it's enough and she doesn't hesitate but closes the space between them till his arms are encircling her, and the heated planes of his chest serve as her pillow. In his arms, she feels at peace. At home. Ready to take on the next challenge.

"So then. Marriage. Kids. Where does the dream career fit into all this?" He asks her gently, breath sliding across her ear.

"I don't know. This job…would be great." She finishes the last of the wine, but is far too comfortable to get up for more.

"You'd be so good at it. I could hold down the fort at home. Nikki Heat could be recruited by the Feds too."

"Alexis is here. So is your mom. So is my dad. Lanie. The boys. The precinct is my home. It's what I do."

"We'd manage."

"I don't want to turn into Jordan Shaw. I don't want to tuck my kids in over the phone, and miss birthdays and milestones."

He sighs, nuzzles into her temple.

"Nothing ever comes without a price, Kate."

"I don't know if I want to pay this one."

"Well." He eases them gently off the couch, and points her in the direction of the bedroom. "Nothing we have to decide about tonight. Sleep on it."

Oh no. Sleep isn't for them. Not after this. Not after she feels like she's conquered Everest. That's far too passive. Her gaze passes over the ripe curl of his bicep, the broad strength of his shoulders. His sheer physical presence. His far-too-addictive scent.

"Sleep, Castle? C'mon. I should be getting something. Make-up sex. Celebratory sex. Catharsis sex. All of the above." She lets that wicked smile she reserves just for him flash briefly as she starts undoing the buttons of her shirt, sashaying gently towards the bedroom. The way his breath hitches, the way his eyes can't quite move off her hips…oh she likes that too. She likes that very much.

Disappointingly, he picks up the glasses and moves towards the kitchen.

"Castle?" She can't quite hold the note of plaintive need from creeping into her voice.

"Be there in a sec." He replies briskly. "Just grabbing some ice cubes. Thought of a little variant on your trick I'll need to test on you…"

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